Enigma
by ElwynZ
Summary: The name 'Enigma' is one that is whispered all across the galaxy. It is both respected and feared - someone who rivals the Shadow Broker himself in the field of information brokering. Many things about him are unknown - who he is, his motives, his origins. But one thing is certain: he is not from this universe. SI. Main story is consistent, potential AU deviations elsewhere.
1. An Auspicious Beginning

**Author's Note:**

**Hey guys, this is my first attempt at a ME story. I have lots in store for this, but this is just something I banged out once the idea seized me. I'm sorry that it may come off as a bit inconsistent - too frivolous at times, and too "dramatic" at others. I'm working on it. If you have any questions - why the AI, how did he get there in two years from nothing, etc, trust me, they will be answered. Just maybe not in the way you'd expect.**

**That said, enjoy! I don't know how often I can update this thing, but we'll see how it turns out. Please leave a review, it really helps me improve my writing.**

**One last note - this is not going to be a fic where my character is badass and kills lots of things. In fact, he won't be on Shepard's ground team at all. But that doesn't mean he won't find some clever way to get around that and still change things behind the scenes...**

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><p>I woke up with a groan, my alarm beeping insistently. I rolled over in bed, slapping at where I guessed it would be at my bedside in order to shut it up. After a moment of useless flailing, I reluctantly opened my eyes a small crack. It was dark in the room, but my eyes adjusted almost instantly, allowing me to see the bare concrete walls. It took me a moment to remember where I was.<p>

"Ugh," I groaned as I sat up in bed, the shrill sound still ringing in my ears. "I should choose a less annoying alarm later."

Instantly, a voice with slightly synthesized undertones spoke up in my head. "I chose that sound in particular because I knew it would annoy the hell out of you."

"Christ, Max, at least give me some warning before you go about messing with the settings of my alarm," I replied, opening up my omnitool with subtle twitch of my fingers and navigating to the alarm function. I quickly pulled some sound files from the extranet and uploaded them into the program. "There. Much better."

"_Friday_ by Rebecca Black? And you thought _my_ alarm was annoying? You really are a masochist."

"Bite me," I shot back, quickly pulling on my clothes. "Besides, it isn't _nearly_ as bad as everyone makes it out to be."

"But it's still pretty bad."

"Yeah, yeah, get off it, will you?"

Max faked a ridiculously exaggerated gasp, like the kind one would make when discovering something particularly scandalous. "Don't tell me you _like_ that song, do you?"

"Max, if I were you, I would shut up right now before I rip out that damn implant and mute your ass." I had pulled that card countless times before, and we both knew that it was an empty threat.

"Touchy, touchy!" He laughed. To his credit, he did immediately drop the subject. Knowing Max, however, I would guess that he would find a way to bring it up again later.

After I was fully dressed, I looked around me at the bare room. Four walls, a ceiling, and a floor all made of bland concrete, with a small light installed at the top. Most of the space was taken up by the bed, reminding me of some of the French hotels I had been to (seriously, those rooms are small). After making sure I had left nothing behind, I picked up my bag of belongings rummaged through it, pulling out a small device that I carefully placed next to the light. After I was satisfied that it was inconspicuous enough, I closed the backpack and shouldered it.

"You know the drill, Max. Call in the sanitation team, tell them I want this place scrubbed to an inch of its life. Put every camera in a 100-metre radius on loop for the next hour, and use a subroutine to monitor that bug to make sure that the s-team does a proper job. Got that?"

"Dude, you're like my _mom_ sometimes. I got it after the first time a few months ago. I don't need a reminder."

"You don't _have_ a mom, you're an AI, and besides-" I stopped, suddenly self-conscious. I was speaking out loud to a voice in my head that no one else could hear. If anyone was watching, I would have seemed insane.

"You know, sometimes I wish I could read your thoughts. That way you wouldn't have to talk out loud to communicate with me. Wait, I take that back. I don't want to see your thoughts. It'd probably be full of porn and other shit all the time."

I grinned in spite of myself. Max always gave me shit, and I must seem insane when I talked to him, but we was my only friend and I somewhat enjoyed the bickering we always settled into. But I would never admit that to him.

"That's bullshit, you of all –erm– _people_ should know that I have lots of other important things to think about."

"OK, what's this, then?" He asked, superiority practically dripping from his tone. He even added paper-rustling sound effects to drive it home. "Fornax volume number 89, 5 credits. Asari Confessions 26: True Blue, 10 credits. Azure Allure, 7 cred-"

"_Fine_, I get it! Jesus, why did I ever install a personality for you if you're just going to fuck around like that?" I reddened as I realized what I had said.

"You walked _right_ into that one."

I was about to respond before my omnitool beeped. It was 19:76, Galactic Standard Time. Shit, I thought, I can't be late. I quickly stepped out of the dingy little room and into the sound and lights show that was Shin Akiba.

I walked quickly, keeping my head down as I passed the ghetto's denizens. _Nothing to see here, just a scrawny 16 year-old with a backpack, an AI implanted into his head, and cybernetic eyes! Please, go back to your drinking/drugging/mugging or whatever you do normally._

I scanned the crowd briefly, trying to keep as inconspicuous as possible as the HUD built into my artificial retina tagged and identified anyone it could. Bored, I focused on one in particular, a batarian who was talking animatedly to a human next to a small store. The HUD tagged him as a Parn Rogpess. As I walked past, I brought up all the information I had on him. His picture, taken from when he first arrived at the Citadel, along with his details appeared in the corner of my vision so I could continue to see my surroundings as I read. I was surprised by how much information there was about him. I had at least a little bit on most people, but this guy had pages and pages of scrolling text. At the top, Agent Rika was identified as the one who had garnered all of this information over the course of a week.

I had hardly begun to read when Max stuck his (figurative) head in again. "Ah, once again using your infinite knowledge and information for the good of the galaxy, eh, _Enigma_?"

I rolled my eyes. He would never let that one go. I muttered to him under my breath. "You know I only had a second to come up with it. It's not that bad of a name. Besides, this guy has a lot of info on him. I have to know what about him is so important that one of my top agents spent a week following him."

"Yeah, yeah. You justify it all you want, but deep down you _love_ having this much power and information."

"Christ, when did you become a psychologist?" I snapped, loud enough to get some sideways glances from some nearby pedestrians. Mercifully, Max remained silent.

I began to scroll through Rogpess' dossier. The first thing that stood out was his birthplace – Khar'shan. _That's weird,_ I thought, _the Hegemony almost never lets anyone leave. What's this guy's story?_ I quickly skimmed it over. It seemed that his parents were taken to a labour camp for spreading dissent, and, as a boy, Rogpess was taken to an orphanage. When he grew up, he got a job as a dockworker. Eventually he had to service his first slave ship. Apparently, he was infuriated by the treatment of the slaves and freed them by stealing the ship. He managed to make it out of the Terminus and into Alliance space without being shot down. The Alliance welcomed him with open arms, hailing him as a hero for returning over a hundred human slaves home. He was promised asylum anywhere in Alliance Space, but declined the offer, stating that he wished to travel to the Citadel and start a group that could "combat the atrocities that some members of [his] own species participate in".

I closed the window and opened a new message, addressing it to Agent Rika. I praised her for how thorough the information was, and hinted at a bonus if she continued to bring me such quality results. I also tasked her with finding out more about the heavily classified Kar'shan from Rogpess. There were very few batarians who managed escaped from the Hegemony, and the Alliance would pay top dollar for anything that could shed light on the Batarian homeworld. I also advised her to use Rogpess' hate of the slave trade to convince him to give up the information. I saved the message and (mentally) hit send. One of Max's subroutines automatically encrypted the message and used one of over 1000 random voice synthesizers for the orders. In this case, he had appeared to have chosen "Asari #69".

I didn't even bother to respond to his crude attempt at humour, and continued walking. I had places to be. To any casual observer, I was just some poor duct rat wandering the streets, hoping to scavenge something to eat, or some credits to put towards his next high. But in reality, I was Enigma, the most powerful information broker on the Citadel - whose network had begun to rival that of even the Shadow Broker himself.

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><p>Enigma began as a tiny whisper in the dark – he someone you could go to for reliable information without a steep price tag. However, as my network and influence grew, so did my reputation. People call me many things. A man who knows everything about everyone on the Citadel. A woman who would not hesitate to sell out her own friends and family if she thought she could profit from it. A group of puppeteers secretly in control of everything that happens on the entire station. You name it.<p>

They would never guess the truth – that the information broker they all whispered and talked about was just a 16 year-old human boy. Me. I am not motivated by credits. I was simply biding my time, waiting for events that I knew would occur. Who I used to be is irrelevant now. I am someone to be respected. I am someone to be feared.

**I am Enigma. And I am not from this world.**


	2. The Shadow Broker

I walked briskly, weaving past the throng of people. Suddenly, the artificial lights of the ghetto shut off, almost instantly replaced by light that looked much more natural as the day cycle kicked in. I looked at the time. 0:00, GST.

I picked up the pace, actively jogging now. I had set up a QEC meeting with the Shadow Broker himself to discuss what he had called my "intrusiveness". For anyone else, I wouldn't have cared about being late. But the Broker is much more powerful than me, so I had to give a good impression.

I didn't quite know what to do about the Broker yet. I knew I could probably have him killed and usurp his position, seeing as I knew exactly who and where he was. It wouldn't take a lot of work to set it up - I had thought about it extensively over the years. A corrupt asari commando squad, a dozen mercenaries, maybe some Eclipse mechs to act as cannon fodder. I would need help from the inside as well, but I had managed to turn quite a few of the Broker's agents over the years, and was receiving a steady stream of information from them. The only problem was that I was sure the Broker had done to same to me.

But, of course, all of that was just a fantasy I played out in my head. I knew above all else that I had to change as little as possible. If I took out the Broker now, no one would be there to get Shepard's body once she died, and the dynamic between Aria, Liara, Feron, Cerberus, and the Collectors would never take place. Then my knowledge of this universe would be useless.

My thoughts were interrupted as a strong arm pulled me into a nearby alleyway, and the cold muzzle of a gun was pressed into the back of my neck.

"Give me that bag, _human_, and I might let you live," a low voice growled.

My eyes glowed as I took in the alleyway and the HUD highlighted various possible escape routes and suggested manoeuvres to disarm the mugger. In the corner of my vision, a voice analysis program ran, giving me a list of possible names for the thief. Max had also likely used some contacts to "redirect" a C-Sec patrol towards me. All this happened automatically, before I myself even had time to react to the situation.

Max spoke up in my head, suddenly all business. "I've used a nearby camera to identify the weapon. It appears to be a Kessler-I model, manufactured by Hanhe-Kedar. However, this one in particular is a replica. It cannot fire."

I smiled, despite the situation. My would-be mugger was screwed, and he didn't even know it yet. I had a number of options here. A C-Sec patrol was already on its way, so I could just pretend to comply for another minute or so until they got here. But that would mean questioning and paperwork until they found out that, for all intents and purposes, I did not exist. Afterwards, I would have to wait for another half-hour as Max used my contacts to bail me out. By then, I would be late for my meeting with the Shadow Broker. As the display in the corner of my eye flashed a positive ID on the man behind me, I came up with another idea.

"Are you planning on robbing me with a fake gun, _Tantus_?"

I felt the pressure on the back of my neck recede a bit, and used the opportunity to whirl around and punch the turian in the face. He yelped in pain, stumbling backwards. I quickly strode up to him and grabbed his left mandible, yanking it towards me.

"Get the _fuck_ out of here, you _bare-faced_ bastard, before I snap your damn mandible in half!"

He nodded frantically, so I let go and shoved him out of the alley. As he fled, I picked up the gun he left behind. I examined it carefully. It seemed to be quite well-made. The only indication that it was not real was that the emergency venting port was shaped incorrectly. Instead of the proper parallelogram-shape, this one was a simple rectangle. I shrugged and put it in my bag. Could be useful.

"I never took you for the threatening type," Max said, "But I must say, that was pretty scary. Nothing strikes fear into the heart of a turian like threatening to snap off a mandible."

"You pick up some tricks when you hang out in a ghetto like this," I replied, dusting myself off. "Oh yeah, can you put a monitoring order on that Tantus guy? I need to make sure that he doesn't become a threat."

"Between this, the encryption, the voice synthesizers, and the sanitation teams, I'm starting to think you're a _little bit paranoid_."

"Yeah, yeah. Why can't you be less annoying _all _the time, instead of only in situations like that?"

"Well, my programming overrides my personality when that happens, but you know how much I had being limited."

I stepped out of the alleyway and continued along my previous route, passing by the C-Sec patrol that Max had called earlier. Eventually, I reached my destination. It was a small asari cafe, owned by one of my many front corporations. It managed to turn a slight profit, but I mostly used it to launder credits as well as provide a front for my base of operations.

The young asari at the desk nodded at me as I came towards her, and I gave her a tight little smile. This would likely be her last day here, as I cycled out employees on a regular basis to prevent detection. She would probably be placed at one of many other establishments similar to this one. Each one of my agents had their own place to operate from, and no one agent could recognize another unless they had worked together in the past. As far as this asari knew, I was only temporary freelancer or agent on assignment.

My musings were cut short as I approached the storage area for the cafe. The door automatically secured itself behind me, and I activated a special protocol with my omnitool that revealed a small doorway. After passing through it and sealing it again, I finally entered the complex. It was quiet, but I knew that it was only an illusion. As I made my way to the QEC room, countless cameras followed me, ready to deploy a small army of mechs from the walls, ceiling, and floor at any sign of danger. And if I gave the order, explosives hidden at key points would detonate to demolish everything, leaving no evidence behind.

Of course, I didn't think of this at all at the time, having become used to these precautions. I was more worried about what the Broker had to say to me. As a entered the QEC, I checked my omnitool. 00:15. Just on time.

If I had a normal QEC, it would be scanning me at the moment in order to display a reasonably accurate avatar of me to the Broker. Of course, I couldn't risk revealing my identity, so the only thing that transferred over was a heavily modified voice and a shadowy, ambiguous avatar that could be anything from vorcha to krogan.

When the link began, and the Broker's own avatar materialized, I knew that he had done the same. A moment passed when neither of us said anything. I broke the silence first.

"Shadow Broker."

"Enigma. You have become a thorn in my side for too long. I have ... _invited_ you to this meeting to give you an offer."

"Which is?"

"Allow me to absorb your network into mine. You will become a high-ranking agent, answering only to me."

"And if I decline?"

"...Then I will be forced to do everything in my power to destroy you."

"You can damn well try."

I terminated the call and strode out of the room. "Max?"

"That was a pretty short conversation. Why did you spend so much money on a QEC that connects only to the Broker if you're only going to use it once for 30 seconds?"

I ignored his question. "I need you to pull on every contact I have in the Broker's network. Find out what he's planning."

"Yeah, yeah, fine. Just ignore my question. I'll send a message out."

I walked over to the command centre, settling down in one of the many chairs. I had chairs optimized for humans and asari, krogan, turian, and even elcor, so as to throw off anyone who tries to use them to guess at my identity. In a fit of paranoia that never really passed, I also commissioned a clean room similar to one that a quarian would use, as well as a high-pressure ammonia-based airlock that only a volus could survive in. I made sure to make it look like all of them were used often.

I pulled up a screen, reading any routine messages relayed to me through my agents. A hanar who wanted the soul name of an acquaintance. A salarian who wanted me to help recover his family's pedigree. Countless more. I authorized all of them with a stroke, an algorithm automatically assigning each one to an agent. Then, I pulled up the list of "unique and unusual" requests. I got only a few of them a week, and these required special attention. Assassination requests, messages from those desperate enough to ask me to do something gratis, and more all got shuffled here. Today, there was only one outstanding message waiting for approval. When I checked the name of the sender, I froze.

_Tali'Zorah nar Rayya_

So much for not changing anything.

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><p><strong>AN:**

**If you can guess where I'm going with this, good for you. Do you think I should pursue this angle further? Leave a review, specifically for this chapter, if you like where this is going. If you don't, say so! I have a few other ideas rolling around. This update came rather quickly, and so will a few more in the near future, but I won't be able to update nearly as much after the new year. Enjoy!**


	3. So It Begins

"You okay?"

Max's voice snapped me out of my stunned silence.

"Yeah. Yeah," I replied, shaking off my apprehension. Opening the message, I began to read.

_To: Enigma_

_From: Tali'Zorah Nar Rayya_

_I know you don't know me. I'm the daughter of Admiral Rael'Zorah, and I've run into trouble on my Pilgrimage. I was investigating a disabled geth and found a recording that seems to indicate that a Spectre named Saren is working with the geth. He's betrayed the Council and is working for some group called the Reapers._

_I'm on the Citadel now, but Saren's people are after me. This is too big for me to deal with. I'm willing to offer you the information in exchange for protection. Are you interested?_

I mentally kicked myself for not considering this possibility sooner. I had assumed that Tali would still go to the Shadow Broker for protection because he was more powerful. I didn't consider that my presence, at least on the Citadel, was much greater than his.

I had a few options here. I could simply deny her request, and she might just go to the Broker anyway. But that was a big risk, and could upset the timing enough that Shepard would never even meet her. Alternatively, I could accept and actually give the evidence over to Shepard directly, but that might mean that Tali never joins Shepard on the Normandy crew. Not a great choice between the two.

After a moment, I came up with a third option. It was far from ideal, but much better than the others. I opened a new message draft and addressed it to Fist.

_To: Fist_

_From: Enigma_

_I will be direct. My operatives have amassed a sizable dossier on all of your syndicate's illegal activities, backed up on multiple OSDs and extranet servers - enough to bring your little "empire" crashing down. You are expressly named with specific crimes in multiple cases. Your own involvement as an agent of the Shadow Broker is mentioned. I have a task for you. If you complete it to my satisfaction, the data will be deleted. I don't have to tell you what happens otherwise. You have one hour to respond._

"Fist? Our operatives haven't even gotten any data on him yet. When did you get all this evidence?"

As much as I trusted Max, there were some things I would never tell him - my true origins chief among them. "I'm bluffing. It doesn't take a genius to deduce that Chora's Den is just a front."

A flashing icon on the screen drew my attention. A message from Fist, only one word.

_Fine._

I smiled, and got to work doing what I did best.

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><p>Half an hour later, I was satisfied that I had set proper events in motion. I leaned back in my chair. "Max?"<p>

"Yes?"

"Search my network for any Alliance Naval Intelligence Officers ideal for ... replacement."

"_Replacement. _I know that's a euphemism for _something_, but I just can't seem to put my finger on it – "

"Just do it."

Not a moment later, Max had brought up a dossier on the screen. I read over it carefully.

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><p><strong><em>Name:<em>**_Andrew Morris_

**_Full Title: _**_Alliance Intelligence Officer Morris_

**_Date of Birth: _**_November 14, 2163_

**_Location of Birth: _**_Yandoa_

**_Affiliation: _**_Alliance Military; Department of Naval Intelligence_

**_Service Number: _**_6728-NI-0052_

**_Status: _**_MIA_

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><p>Underneath the basic information was a large photograph of Morris. I examined him carefully. He looked quite a bit like me – more than a passing resemblance, but not enough to convince anyone who knew him well. I was just about to voice my concern to Max when he spoke up, anticipating my question.<p>

"Read his biography first, before you ask anything."

I frowned, but continued reading.

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><p><em>Andrew Morris was born in New Rochester on the Alliance colony of Yandoa. At age seven, he and his family were directly exposed to dust-form element zero when an Eldfell-Ashland Energy vessel carrying the mineral exploded above the city. Morris himself was stricken with malformed "nodules" of element zero due to heavy exposure. However, because exposure to element zero only causes biotic tendencies in fetuses, Morris retained only the detrimental effects. He fell into a deep coma, and his parents were told he had very little chance of ever regaining lucidity. As well, his pregnant mother gave birth to a stillborn baby soon afterwards due to the incident. Falling into a deep depression, both of Morris' parents committed suicide. However, soon afterwards, Morris made an unexpected recovery following the success of a high-risk operation to finally remove the element zero from his system. As a side-effect of the surgery, Morris' pituitary gland was slightly damaged. As a result, hormones were artificially injected into him at an appropriate age to simulate puberty. Because it was artificially induced, his puberty was abnormally short, leaving Morris of short stature and physically underdeveloped. However, his mental faculties appear undamaged, and matured normally.<em>

_Due to his abnormally high aptitude scores, the Alliance adopted him under a new initiative. He was taken to a secure facility in the Nariph System of the Pylos Nebula to undergo training as an Intelligence Officer, using his abilities, skills, intellect, and networks to obtain mission-critical intelligence. However, before he could be assigned to a ship, the station was attacked and raided by slavers, who managed to kill all of the staff and capture the younger children before the Alliance could respond._

_It is unknown if Morris' captors decided to enslave or kill him. An Alliance Asset Recovery Team is scheduled to search the station for survivors and identify any bodies. Until his status is confirmed, he is assumed MIA._

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><p>My frown turned into a smile as I realized the unique opportunity here. Under the circumstances, Morris himself wouldn't be turning up soon, so I wouldn't have to arrange for him to be killed. As well, anyone who knew him well or raised him would have died or been captured during the raid as well, so I wouldn't have to worry about that either. All that I needed to do was have Max upload my biometric ID to replace his and alter the photo slightly to resemble me more.<p>

"Max, upload my Bio-ID to the file and doctor the picture. I'll also need transport out to this station before the Alliance gets there."

Before Max even replied, I saw the picture change subtly. "I've done all of that. I suppose you want to be dropped off at the station and allow the Alliance to "rescue" you?"

"Bingo. How long do you think it'll take?"

"Well, the Asset Recovery Fleet is currently discharging into the gas giant Jonus near the station. It'll take them hours to fully complete it. If we go now, we can be there an hour before they start searching."

"Right, fine."

"The captain of an Icarus-class shipping freighter docked at station D79 owes a significant amount of money to loan sharks. Should I offer to pay off his debts in exchange for passage?"

"No, an Icarus-class is too large; the fleet might see it dropping me off. Are there any one-man craft available?"

"I can spoof Hierarchy credentials to commandeer a shuttle for you."

"Do it."

"Message away. Get to bay D108, third airlock."

A few minutes later (courtesy of Citadel Rapid Transit) I was comfortably sitting in the small one-person shuttle as its owner (a young turian soldier on shore leave) argued with docking officials at customs. I set the navigational VI on its course and sat back.

"Max?"

"I'm always listening. You don't have to ask."

"Right, right. Can you monitor Fist? I need to see that he's done everything right."

A camera feed showed up in the corner of my retina. Seeing as the autopilot was doing all the work, I allowed it to take up the entirety of my vision.

I watched Tali arriving at the alleyway nervously. She spoke to Fist's agents, getting more and more heated over time.

"Where's Enigma? Where's Fist?"

"They'll be here. Where's the evidence?"

"No way. The deal's off."

My breath hitched. If it goes wrong, it happens now. Tali throws the mine at the Salarians, and… _where's Shepard?_

For a moment, I start to panic. If I somehow screwed up the timing, or –

My thoughts are interrupted as gunfire erupts. Out of the end of the alley, a bluish blur charges its way into the fray. A moment later, all of the thugs are dead. And there, standing in the middle of it all, was Commander Jane Shepard.

I had done extensive research on this Shepard. Born on Mindoir, and orphaned by slavers. Joined up with the Alliance, before her entire squad was decimated by a thresher maw attack on Akuze. Stranded for days with no food or water, she survived through force of sheer will, never once giving up. She was no stranger to loss.

But none of that research and preparation – hell, not even the games – could compare to the actual her. There was something in her posture – her expression. The way she held herself. Her blazing red hair and sharp green eyes conveyed sincerity, commanded respect. And this was just through a grainy camera feed.

A moment later, Garrus rounded the corner, followed soon after by a plodding Wrex. The former examined the scene with a clinical eye, watching out for any more thugs as Shepard talked. Wrex just seemed disappointed that he had missed the fight.

As Tali and Shepard discussed, I minimized the feed into one corner and opened another – this time, in Chora's den. It was filled with the bodies of Fist's men, and C-Sec had just begun to cordon off the area. Quickly switching to Fist's safe room, I saw Fist himself as well, his corpse a mess of flesh and blood. I quickly closed the screen. The games never showed what the corpse _looked_ like after Wrex was done with him.

I reopened the feed in the alleyway, only to find it empty. I quickly called up the bug I had installed in Udina's office. The man himself was pacing, obviously waiting for Shepard to arrive. Not a moment later, the door slid open with a pressurizing hiss. I zoned out in the ensuing conversation, not really paying attention. Tali explained the pilgrimage and so on. Shepard decided to go see the Council immediately.

Shepard's induction into the Spectres was interesting, but ultimately nothing I hadn't seen before. The Turian councilor seemed to be trying to swallow something unpleasant the whole time. Afterwards, she traded words with Udina and Anderson before walking off.

I was suddenly struck by the fact that she might immediately board the Normandy instead of doing some side missions first, leaving me behind. I quickly called up some contacts on the Normandy, and had one of the engineers "accidentally" fudge the rounding on one of the drive core algorithms. When the Normandy tried to start up, not enough power would be allocated to the core. Nothing catastrophic, but it would take at least a day for the problem to be identified and fixed. Satisfied, I finally closed all of the windows as the Widow Relay loomed in front of me.

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><p>A few minutes later, after being thrown around from relay to relay, my one-man shuttle arrived in the system of Nariph. From my position, I could see the giant blue ball that was Jonus. I tried to make out the fleet, but the gas giant dwarfed any potential presence and soon gave it up as a lost cause. Soon enough, I could make out the growing station in front of me.<p>

Immediately, the shuttle's communications array lit up with warning messages. The navigation VI automatically stopped in response, firing retrograde thrusters to bring the craft to a standstill.

"Max?"

"Yeah, I'm overriding the controls now."

The shuttle immediately fired again, maneuvering itself closer to the massive station. I peered at it from the window. It appeared to be largely intact, all things considered. However, there did seem to be a number of open airlocks that appeared to have been forced open. I suddenly remembered the Mars mission from the third game and shuddered. What a terrible way to go.

The small craft easily navigated to the docking bay. As it slowed to a halt, Max took over the station in order to pressurize the area. As the cyber warfare suites had already been compromised, it only took a moment.

I quickly instructed the VI to enter an unstable orbit near the system's star, overriding any navigational errors and warnings. It left silently, with no passenger within. A few hours from now, there would be no trace of the thing. Feeling guilty, I also instructed Max to reimburse the turian soldier whose shuttle we had taken for its loss. Using Hierarchy money, of course. There was no way _I_ was paying for that if I could get away with it.

Using the emergency lighting as a guide, I found my way to an escape pod and clambered inside, sealing it behind me. Max uploaded himself into the pod and fired it, at the same time editing data to make it seem like it had been almost a day since it left the station instead of moments. He then replaced his runtimes with a copy of the original VI so as to leave no evidence of his tampering.

"What do we do now?" Max asked, after he had finished.

"Now we play my favourite game," I replied.

"Oh? What's that? Is it that porn game you downloaded last week?"

"No."

"Relay Defence?"

"No."

"Towers of Hanoi?"

"I was going to say the waiting game, but now I have a better idea."

"Let me guess: the silence game."

"No, it's the _shut the fuck up before I flood your database with seven zettabytes of porn_ game."

"Only _you_ would even _have_ seven zettabytes of porn just sitting around to even do that with."

"Fuck you."

"Clever. _Veeerrry_ clever."

I finally shut up, reasoning that Max himself wouldn't unless I did first. Looking out the window, I noticed that the fleet had begun moving again, sending small probes ahead of it to scout out the station. One probe in particular seemed to be homing in on my position, attaching itself to the hull. Max spoke up in my head.

"The transmitter is requesting the data off this pod – your biometrics, the time launched, your condition. Should I send it?"

"Go ahead."

A moment later, one of the smaller cruisers veered its course slightly, now on an intercepting course to my small pod.

I closed my eyes for the first time since waking up that morning in Shin Akiba. It was a long day. But my true test had yet to begin.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for the patience, everybody! It took me a few days to finish this up; I had to study for an ACT diagnostic test. Which I did an hour ago. I did fine on it, thanks for asking.**

**Anyway, this chapter is slightly longer than the usual. I've decided on the angle at which I want to approach getting *on* the Normandy. Just so you ask, all of this is canon. I haven't changed anything. Yandoa is a real colony, the eezo accident really happened (it was how Gillian from the books got her biotics), the system the station is in really exists, etc. In future, I will note when I have taken liberties.**

**I hope you've enjoyed the chapter. Please leave a review, it helps me improve! Also, words of encouragement or constructive criticism mean a lot more to me than numbers on a stat page. It helps me connect better with my audience. I hope you've had a great Christmas, and I look forward to a great 2015!**


	4. Not Quite Right

Shepard had never been one to give up. When slavers attacked the colony of Mindoir she had refused to allow herself to be caught, even as her own friends and family were slaughtered around her. On Akuze, when every muscle and fibre of her body had screamed at her to stop and give in, she pressed on, refusing to believe that she would fail for even a second. When Shepard set her mind on something, she was unstoppable.

So it was a surprise to everyone when Shepard, standing in front of the Normandy's drive core as it powered up only to immediately dim for the umpteenth time, pushed off the console with a frustrated groan before stalking off to the elevator.

After coming back from her Spectre inauguration and having control of the Normandy given to her, Jane Shepard felt on top of the world. As the docking clamps came off, she gave a rousing speech that put fire in everyone on the Normandy. By the end, they were all determined to do their part, from the ground team to the cook. Which is why it was so damn anticlimactic when the ship _wouldn't move_.

It started up well enough, but the drive core didn't lighten the ship enough to allow it to move, much less reach relativistic speeds. No matter what the crew did, it never got any better. Shepard put all of the ship's engineers and an eager Tali on the problem, but even through their combined efforts it hadn't even been identified yet. And when not even a quarian could fix something, you knew you were screwed.

Jane stood in the elevator as it slowly crawled up a level to the crew deck. Her omnitool began beeping, interrupting her thoughts. She brought it up, surprised to see that it was a vid-call request from Anderson. Shepard tapped accept, and a moment later Anderson appeared in the display.

"Shepard! How's the Normandy?"

"The damn thing won't move at all! The drive core seems to be malfunctioning. None of the engineers can figure it out."

"It ran just fine yesterday. You know what, I'll send over a friend of mine. He's really good with the new Tantalus. Wrote the algorithms himself, in fact."

"That would be much appreciated, sir."

"Anyway, I just wanted to let you know – I got a priority message from Alliance brass about a new transfer."

"Someone's getting posted to the Normandy? We're shipping out the moment the problem is fixed – the timetable's a bit tight."

"I know. Normally you would get informed at least a week prior, but for some reason this guy in particular got pushed through. Here. I've attached his file for you to read over. Guy by the name Andrew Morris."

Shepard took a moment to skim the file, stopping at Morris' title.

"An Alliance Intelligence Officer? I've never heard of that before."

"I know, its not exactly common knowledge. It was a new initiative about a decade ago, to create a network of information brokers that answer to the Alliance. The first officers were just about to finish training before slavers raided the station and took everyone. Morris is the only survivor."

"But this raid happened two days ago. How can they give Morris an assignment this quickly after something like that?"

"I have no idea. Someone very high up has a vested interest in getting this guy on the Normandy. Watch yourself around this guy, Shepard. Something's not quite right."

"I'll be careful, sir."

"And stop with that 'sir' stuff. I'm not your commanding officer anymore."

"All right, Anderson. Talk to you later."

Anderson gave a brief nod before terminating the call, just as the elevator chimed and the door slid open. Christ, this thing was slow. Maybe Tali would have some insight on how to make the thing go faster.

As she stepped out into the CIC, Shepard was flagged down by Pressly, now the Normandy's XO.

"Commander?"

"Yes, Pressly?"

"Andrew Morris has arrived at the dock and is currently awaiting your permission to board the ship."

"Thank you. Carry on, Pressly."

Striding to the airlock and ignoring Joker's questioning glance, Shepard stepped back out onto the dock. What she saw surprised her.

She hadn't had time to read the file in depth, so Shepard did not expect Morris to look the way he did. He was quite short, and looked as though he had barely even started puberty. Quickly, she glanced around. There was no one else in sight.

The boy – _man, she corrected herself_ – in front of her cleared his throat and snapped off a salute.

"Alliance Intelligence Officer Morris reporting for duty, ma'am."

"At ease, Morris."

Morris relaxed somewhat, but he still seemed unsure what to do. Shepard sighed internally. What was the Alliance thinking, sending her an inexperienced kid with that much emotional baggage? This would be a mess.

"I assure you, ma'am, I am the very best at what I do."

As a matter of course, Shepard never allowed herself to show when she had been caught off guard. Just barely, she managed to maintain the same calm veneer. She hadn't expected Morris to read her as easily as he did. Quickly, to cover up the minor hiccup, Shepard gave a smile and gestured towards the Normandy.

"Welcome aboard the Normandy, Intelligence Officer. Would you like a tour? I'm sure Pressly would be happy to give you one."

"No thank you, Commander. I've already memorized the layout."

With that, the young man breezed past Shepard, who found herself staring after him. For just a moment there, she could've sworn she saw his eyes… _glowing_.

* * *

><p>The next day, the drive core had been fixed. The technical explanation went over Shepard's head, but the expert Anderson had sent identified the problem with a root algorithm. He quickly fixed it, and the Normandy was back to normal. Finally away and approaching the Widow relay, Shepard decided to do her "rounds" as the crew so affectionately called it. She was just about to start with Alenko when her omnitool beeped again. It was Pressly.<p>

"Commander, some of the crew have complaints about Morris."

After their interesting first meeting the day before, Shepard had almost entirely forgotten about the strange new Intelligence Officer aboard the ship. Sighing, she wondered what kind of trouble that kid had gotten himself into.

"What is it?"

"He's turned the Crew Quarters into… I have no idea what to call this. You should come down and see for yourself."

Shepard groaned, turning to the elevator. A few minutes later, the door to the Crew's quarters irised open in front of her.

To say that the sight was overwhelming would be an understatement. The walls were covered from top to bottom in holographic displays, showing video, data files, extranet searches, and archive lists among dozens of other things. In one corner, a number of feeds ran – camera footage from the Normandy, the Citadel, and a variety of other locations. Morris himself was sitting in the middle of it all, manipulating files, sending messages, and muttering under his breath. The console he had been allocated sat unused in a corner.

Shepard was about to speak up when Morris interrupted her.

"Commander," he said, without looking around. "How can I help you?"

"How did you know I was here?"

Morris motioned to his right, where the feeds were.

"I saw you leaving your quarters and entering the elevator. Besides, I heard your conversation with Pressley." He tapped his ear before continuing. "I hear every transmission that comes in and out of this ship."

Shepard was furious, but refused to let it show.

"When did you get clearance to monitor everything on the Normandy?"

Morris finally turned around. Shepard unconsciously took a step back as she realized that his eyes were indeed glowing. Fidgeting, he spoke up again.

"I, uh, never did. Sorry Commander, I'll stop. Old habit, I guess."

"It's an 'old habit' to hack into your commanding officer's ship?

"Well, what can I do for you, Commander?" Morris said suddenly, avoiding the question. Shepard's eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't press the issue.

"The crew are complaining. You've converted their quarters into…" she motioned with her hands, waving around. "…this."

"Commander, I'd be a _very silent_ Intelligence Officer without data feeds," Morris replied, his expression belying great amusement.

"Fine, then, I can find you a new location to do whatever it is you do. We have a storage area in the shuttle bay that no one uses. You can set up there."

"Very well, Commander. Please give me a moment to finish this and I will move."

Shepard nodded, pleased that the incident had passed. As she turned to leave, Morris spoke up again.

"Commander, may I ask where we are going next?"

"Don't you already know?"

Morris smiled – the first time she'd seen him do so. "Of course I do. I just asked you out of courtesy."

"We're headed to Feros. The colonists there need help right away."

"Very well, Commander. I will have a report ready by the time we are in orbit."

"Glad to hear it," Shepard replied, beginning to walk away. At the exit, she turned around again, only to see that Morris had enveloped himself in holo-displays yet again, his eyes glowing yet strangely unfocused. She shook her head and left.

In the elevator, Shepard once again brought up Morris' files, resolving to read them thoroughly and do some extra research. Something about him made her feel uneasy, and she was going to find out what it was.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, after having read the file but still not quite satisfied, Shepard wondered what to do. The file was everything the Alliance had on Morris, but didn't explain why his eyes glowed, and how someone that had barely even passed training already had such an impressive network and could manage to break through the Alliance's most secure firewalls. A moment later, she came up with a solution. She reached over to the intercom.<p>

"Tali, could you come up to see me for a moment, please?"

A few minutes later, there was a knock on her quarters. Tali entered, her body language showing that she was a bit confused.

"You called for me, Shepard?"

Shepard put a finger to her lips in a universal sign for silence. She strode over to Tali and opened her omnitool, indicating for the quarian to do the same. She created a direct network between the two, allowing them to communicate.

Tali quickly understood the gist of it, running a number of programs to further isolate their omnitools. Shepard typed out a message.

_S: You said that you hired an information broker to protect you on the Citadel?_

_T: Yes. Enigma._

_S: Is he any good?_

_T: They say he's the best on the Citadel. Second only to the Shadow Broker, but they say he has some morals. He's been known to help some people for free if he feels like they deserve it._

_S: That's not much, but it's better than the Shadow Broker. How do I get in contact with him?_

Tali looked up from her omnitool, giving Shepard a questioning glance. Shepard only shrugged.

_T: Just address your message to "Enigma", and it gets through. Don't ask me how it works._

_S: Thanks, Tali._

With that, the two women closed their omnitools. Shepard gave Tali a nod of thanks, and the quarian left. Shepard turned to her console, composing a brief message to the information broker.

_To: Enigma_

_From: Cmdr. Jane Shepard_

_I need all the information you have on Alliance Intelligence Officer Andrew Morris._

Shepard sat back and smiled. Soon, she'd have everything she needed to know.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey guys! Have a great new year! I never thought I'd spend the last moments of 2014 writing fanfiction. I am currently sitting on the balcony at a resort in Cancun. It's 11:28 local time, but its 12:28 back home. The new year is almost upon us. Anyway, this chapter took me a while to bang out, and I figured that it would work better from Shepard's POV rather than my character's. I may occasionally do this. One liberty I took was the crew's quarters and storage room I mentioned. The Normandy SR1 really had no extra space for anything. I simply reasoned that the crew's quarters was located between the CIC and shuttle bay of the Normandy, so you could get there by elevator. I know that there are sleeping pods and all, but its not unreasonable to assume that the setup would be similar to the SR2, in that you had both pods and actual beds. As for the storage room, well, I needed _some_ place to put all of my holo-crap. Once again, have a great 2015! I have to go to sleep now for a fun day of relaxing and swimming tomorrow. Jealous? ;D**


	5. Edolus

"Hey, Morris. Wake up."

I groaned, opening my eyes. I could easily make out a figure standing next to my cot, despite the darkness. "What?"

"It's 0700. I've been assigned to hot bunk with you, and I'm tired as all hell. _Would you kindly_ get up?"

I cracked a smile, even though it couldn't be seen. "Right away, Ryan."

"My name's not Ryan," the other man replied, a little confused. "It's Hector. Hector Emerson. Where the hell did you get Ryan from?"

"I-"

"Nevermind," he interrupted, yawning. "If I don't get some sleep now I think I'll pass out."

Nodding, I climbed out of the small bunk and headed towards the elevator. Max spoke up.

"_Hey, E."_

"Don't call me that."

"_Morris, then._ _You haven't been reading your contracts lately, have you?_"

"Max, you already know I haven't. I thought I trusted you to take care of them? I have to write a damn report on Feros and it's a pain in the ass the decide what to put in and what to omit."

"_Right. Anyway, I thought it would interest you to read this."_

A message popped up in my display, and I read through it quickly as I waited in the elevator.

"Wait. _Shepard_ sent this?"

"_Yeah. You may be a good broker, but you're a terrible actor. She's suspicious."_

"Fuck. It's barely been a day."

_"Well, how are you going to handle this?"_

"How I would handle any contract. I'll just have to be careful in what I choose to put in the file."

I opened up a small message window and composed a reply using my omnitool's keyboard.

_I can obtain the information for you, but I can assure you that my fees are not cheap by any means. A comprehensive dossier will cost 20,000 credits. Still interested?_

I sent it off, for once glad that the elevator was so excruciatingly slow.

* * *

><p>I sat alone in the mess, eating a ration bar and rereading my report on Feros for any errors. An alert in the corner of my eye indicated someone behind me.<p>

"Vakarian," I said without looking around.

If the turian was surprised, he didn't show it.

"Morris, right?"

"Yeah," I replied, finally turning. Garrus' mandibles spread slightly, outwards and downwards. I racked my brain for a moment, remembering an old pamphlet I read once about turian facial expressions. If memory served me correctly, than what Garrus was doing was roughly analogous to a human raising an eyebrow.

I grinned. "What? Is it my eyes?" I asked him, purposely increasing their glow. I knew I probably shouldn't be drawing attention to myself in this way, but I couldn't help it.

Garrus shook his head, a remarkably human gesture. "Not that. I've seen a lot of cybernetic eyes. Even considered getting them instead of this-" he motioned at his visor. "What I wanted to say was that you're eating the wrong ration."

"What do you mean?"

"See that, there?" he asked, pointing at a small blue sticker on the wrapper. "That means that it's dextro-amino based."

"Oh."

"Yeah. But seeing as you're already halfway through it and haven't gone into anaphylactic shock yet, I'll assume that you're not sensitive to dextro."

"No, I'm not," I replied, throwing the half-eaten ration bar into the trash. "These things smell bad no matter what chirality they are so I can't tell the damn difference."

Garrus gave the closest approximation to a smile as he could before tossing me another ration bar. This one had a yellow sticker on the wrapper.

I nodded my thanks and was about to open it when I noticed the label – it was specially designed for biotics.

I frowned. "I think this is the wrong one. It's for biotics."

Garrus did the thing with his mandibles again. "Aren't you one?" he asked, pointing to my neck.

I patted the back of my neck, feeling the familiar implant that allowed Max to interface with me. I had never really considered that it could be mistaken for a biotic amp.

"Oh, this isn't an amp. It's…"

"A cybernetic implant?" Garrus offered.

I nodded, grateful. "It manages all of my implants, prevents rejection."

"_All_ of your implants? What else do you have?"

I thought for a moment. While I did have quite a few implants, only a few would make sense for Morris to have.

"Aside from the eyes, I have to use cybernetics instead of nerve endings to control my muscles. Total reconstructive surgery."

"That was after Yandoa, right?"

I nodded. "You've read my file?"

"Yes. I was curious. But the cybernetics weren't mentioned."

"That was after I was transferred to the station. I was undergoing physical therapy, and after improvement tapered off I opted for it. I was their first. From what I understand, its much more common place now."

Garrus nodded, before pulling his mandibles tight to his face. "The file skipped over everything that happened at the station. They've got nothing until the raid. A decade is a long time."

I pretended to flinch at the mention of the raid on the station, and got a sympathetic trill from Garrus' subharmonics in return.

"I'm sorry. I forgot myself for a moment."

"No, no. It's fine," I took a breath to 'compose myself'. "Everything we did there was classified."

"But surely the Alliance-"

"You don't understand," I interrupted. "The Alliance…was kept in the dark."

If Garrus had a jaw, it would have dropped. As it was, he simply splayed his mandibles wide in shock.

"You mean the facility went _rogue_?"

"Not…exactly. There were a few things that the Alliance wouldn't have approved of. The cybernetics, for one. Every kid had some kind of implants – and they weren't optional. That's how I got the eyes. They also did sophisticated VI research, especially concerning self-adapting code – supposedly to help us collate data when we got assignments."

"Sounds a lot more like AI than VI."

"Pretty much."

"Spirits – that sounds serious."

"Yes. Although I don't suppose it matters, now that they're all dead."

Garrus shifted awkwardly, looking at the ground. "I'm sorry."

"That's the thing about getting old, Garrus. The platitudes get just as old." I smiled to myself.

If he could, Garrus would have furrowed his brow. "You're hardly-"

He was interrupted by Shepard's voice over the comm.

"Vakarian, Zorah. Suit up and meet me in the cargo bay. We're in orbit over Edolus in ten."

I tossed Garrus a dextro ration bar as he jogged to the elevator, clearly eager for his first mission groundside.

"Morris, see what you can dig up. We've got a distress call, but its been stripped of all identifiers. You should be able to get it on your omnitool. Send me whatever you've got before we touch down."

As soon as the comm clicked off, Max spoke up.

"_You made up all that bullshit on the spot? Pretty damn impressive."_

Ignoring him, I opened up my omnitool and brought up the distress call as more of the crew slowly filtered into the mess. A simple analysis confirmed what I already knew – the beacon had been tampered with. It was supposed to give the name of the person who activated it, as well as a description of the situation. In this case, it was broadcasting the default signal that was only used in case of severe damage or corruption. Short of sabotage, the only situation that could cause this would be loss of power after centuries of operation.

From my knowledge of the games, I already know that Cerberus had done this to lure soldiers to their death for study. However, Morris would not realistically be able to reach that conclusion, at least not at this point. After a moment, I decided to let Shepard know that the beacon had likely been tampered with, and to expect some kind of trap. That would be vague enough to keep from changing the series of events to follow.

I sent a vid call request to Shepard. A moment later, the window popped up on my omnitool.

"Morris."

"Commander. The beacon has obviously been tampered with. I'll spare you the details, but someone planted that thing there specifically to lure potential "rescuers" to their deaths. I'd watch out down there."

"Noted. Thanks for the intel," came the curt reply. Before she could disconnect, I interrupted.

"Could you patch me into the helmet feeds of the ground team? I could offer some assistance if a situation comes up."

Shepard seemed to think about it for a moment before nodding. Seconds after the call ends, three data streams pop up in my retinal display. Getting out of the chair, I made my way to the elevator, watching as Shepard, Garrus, and Tali load into the Mako. By the time I reached the Engineering and Storage level, they had already been dropped. A slow hum filled the area as inertial dampeners kicked in, offsetting the force of returning to orbit.

I made my way to the old storage room allocated to me. I sealed the door behind me and sat down on my chair. The day before, I had enlisted Wrex's help to push all of the crates up against the back wall so there was enough room for me to set up. Under my desk, a small box filled with gun parts such as ammo blocks, triggers and barrels was gathering dust. I kicked it farther away as I sat down.

I tapped on a small, black device that immediately projected a holographic display onto the wall in front of me. I transferred the helmet feeds onto it so I could expand the window and get a better look. It appeared that Shepard's group was beginning to make its way to the distress beacon. I tapped the small holographic image of a microphone – a useless skeuomorph, really – and transmitted directly into the ground team's helmets.

"Testing. Can you hear me?"

Each person said his or her own variation of yes, so I continued.

"It would be advisable to stay at a distance and use the Mako's cannon to deal with any threats," I said, watching the feed carefully for any sign of the thresher maw. "As well, I think I see a Grizzly next to that beacon, and… more than a few bodies. I'm guessing that would be the Admiral's men."

No one said anything, but Shepard's view bobbed for a second. Nodding her thanks, I suppose.

A minute later, Shepard drove the Mako up to the beacon. The yellow-brown sky of the desolate planet seemed to press down on the barren desert in all directions. It seemed quiet, isolated, and somewhat safe. There was nothing to give away the terror hidden underneath all of the rock and sand.

As Garrus reached for the hatch, a low rumble shook the vehicle. The turian's hand froze.

Tali's mouthpiece lit up. "What was that?"

Before I could reply, the rumble almost instantly grew in intensity, jostling the crew around. A moment later, the thresher maw itself erupted from the ground, blue tongue and all.

The first thing that struck me was how truly immense it was. Watching it on a screen did it no justice; that thing was the size of a tower, and that was only the part of it that went above ground. For a moment my heart flew to my throat before I forced it back down and opened a comm link.

"Commander, start driving! Whatever you do, don't stay still!"

Nothing happened, and I really started worrying.

"Garrus! What's going on?"

"The Commander's having some sort of panic attack! She's unresponsive!"

I checked his camera and he was right. Shepard sat rigid, tendons in her throat tensing and releasing. Her mouth moved, and she choked out a few words.

"I can't-" she wheezed, "-can't _breathe_."

"Garrus, open up a first aid kit, _now_."

Garrus quickly did so, fumbling the strap that held it to the ceiling of the Mako.

Tali was holding onto Shepard to stop her trembling. "What about the thresher maw? I can't reach the controls; Shepard's in the way!" she exclaimed, voice wavering even through her speakers.

The maw's head was rearing back, and from the strange gurgling sound I heard even through the earpiece I could tell it was preparing to spit corrosive acid.

"Damn it! Tali, open up a console and transfer remote control to me."

As she did so, Garrus spoke up as well. I checked his feed, and saw that he had the first aid kit open. "What now?"

"Sedatives. That's the syringe in the corner pouch."

Garrus took out the syringe and ripped off the cap, priming the injector. "How much?"

I took another glance at the Commander. Without Tali holding her, she had begun to shake noticeably. Her throat was constricted and she took deep, rasping breaths. Her eyes were unfocused and she was visibly sweating.

"All of it. _Now._"

Garrus didn't question my order, and swiftly injected the sedatives. They took effect almost immediately, and Shepard slumped into her chair, held up by the straps keeping her in place.

Suddenly, the Mako rocked and groaned as a terrible roar came from outside, followed by an uncomfortable _sizzling_ sound. The Mako's VI's calm voice filled the small space. "Structural Integrity at thirty percent."

"Tali!"

"I've got it!"

My holographic display threw up a new interface for controlling the Mako. I quickly skimmed over the instructions for remote operation before turning to the task at hand.

The small tank's wheels scrabbled against the terrain as I raised the throttle as high as it could go. Just as the thresher maw launched another acid projectile, they finally found purchase against the sand and lurched forward, narrowly dodging the attack. The thresher maw retreated back into the ground, but I stayed alert for any sign that it would reappear.

"Garrus, get on the turret. Shoot at its tongue, it's weakest there."

Garrus quickly undid his harness and clambered into the turret, sliding two large ammo blocks into their receptacles. Looking over, I saw that Tali was dumping obscene amounts of omni-gel into the Mako's automatic minifacturer for emergency repairs. Shepard was still out of it – silently reliving the horrors she'd suffered on Akuze, I imagined.

Deciding that it was safe for the moment, I radioed Joker.

"Moreau, I need you to get down there and pick up the Mako."

"Already on my way. You're not the only one with access to their helmet feeds, you know. Tell 'em I'm five minutes out. They'll have to hold on until then."

I nodded and relayed the information to Garrus and Tali. The quarian, finished with the omni-gel, turned and began to unstrap Shepard from her harness, and, with some difficulty, squeezed her into the back seat before sitting down at the controls herself.

"I can drive from here."

"Do you know how?"

"I've driven civilian models of the Grizzly; the controls here are almost exactly the same."

I transferred control back to the local operator, just as the thresher maw erupted from the ground again to the left of the Mako. Tali instantly sped away as Garrus fired shot after shot into the creature, as well as a few rockets for good measure. With the last salvo, one of the strange appendages on its back was blown off, earning the group a satisfying roar of pain.

The creature attempted to slither back into the ground, but Garrus didn't let up. Machine gun fire and rocket salvos slowly took their toll. A few moments later, the 'maw slumped over, kicking up a veritable sandstorm as it hit the ground.

I sat back, my heart hammering. That had been too close. I had never had trouble with this mission myself before – as long as you kept moving the thresher maw usually couldn't hit you. But Shepard's panic attack was a complicating factor. I hindsight, was one that I should have anticipated it. I just couldn't get over how things could be so different yet so similar at the same time. The loud humming of the inertial dampeners drowned out my thoughts as the Normandy descended into the lower atmosphere.

* * *

><p>After Shepard was brought to the med bay, there wasn't much for me to do. Eventually, I decided to take a look at how repairs were going on the Mako. A few engineers and crewmembers were already there, working on it as Garrus supervised.<p>

"Officer Vakarian."

"Please, just Garrus is fine."

I grinned. "Ok, _just Garrus_, how are the repairs going?"

Max groaned in my head, and Garrus flared his mandibles in exasperation. Yeah, that was pretty bad.

"We're currently stripping off the minifactured alloy sheets and we're replacing them with the proper ablative plating. Most of it was corroded beyond repair, and we've used up almost all of our stock."

I nodded, watching as an engineer added another piece of damaged armour to a growing pile. One of the men clambered to the roof and opened a panel on the turret.

"What's he doing up there?"

Garrus scratched his neck. "I, uh, overheated the turret while I was firing. The whole thing's damaged beyond repair."

I took a closer look, and saw that the barrel had warped after melting and resolidifying. I was sure that the internal damage was just as bad.

"Yeah, looks like it. Damn thresher maws."

Garrus turned to look at me. "About that…"

"Yes?"

He looked troubled for a moment as he tried to put what he wanted to say into words. His left mandible twitched slightly, something I noticed he did often when he was nervous. "Thanks. For helping, I mean." He cleared his throat. "I'm not good at, uh, _thank-you's_ and all, so-"

I interrupted him. "Garrus. It's fine. I understand. No one could have predicted a damn thresher maw."

"How did you know what to do?"

"You think the decade of studying I had was for nothing? Garrus, stuff like this is what I train for – knowledge, information, that kind of thing. It's my job."

Garrus shook his head. "I just can't wrap my head around that."

"Around what?"

"This… Naval intelligence thing. Do you even have military training?"

"No. No training," I lied. In reality, I had spent quite a few months practicing marksmanship with a variety of guns in the best simulator credits could buy. I was far from great, but I could handle myself if things really got bad.

"But it was a military operation," he said, clearly confused.

"It was a military _sanctioned_ operation, Garrus. And need I remind you that it didn't exactly follow protocol. No time for that when they were busy trying to teach us the nuances of information brokering."

"I see. Well, we're lucky to have you."

I smiled genuinely. "Thanks. That means a lot."

Garrus nodded, before turning back and telling a crewman off for attaching the plating inside out. I took that as my cue to leave, so I headed to the elevator.

Emerging to the crew deck, I immediately headed to the med bay and knocked on the door. In response, it irised open.

Chakwas sat at her desk near the door, typing away at her console. As I entered, she looked up.

"Ah, Mr. Morris. Here to check up on Shepard?"

"Yeah. Is she okay?"

"She's fine now. The sedatives you had Garrus administer have worn off, but she's still asleep. When she wakes up she'll be fine."

I nodded, looking over to the bed where Shepard lay.

Chakwas spoke again. "I'm glad you acted so quickly. She could have really hurt herself there."

"Yeah. To be honest, though, I wasn't sure if I made the right call."

"A full syringe was a bit much, but other than that, you did nothing wrong."

Relieved, I thanked the doctor and left the room. Just as the door closed behind me, my omnitool chimed. A new message.

_From: Cmdr Jane Shepard_

_To: Enigma_

_I'm interested. I'll give you half now and the other half once I have received the information. I am afraid that I will have to pay with an extranet transaction instead of a credit chit as I am currently away from the Citadel. Could you please provide me with an address?_

I was about to type out a response when Max spoke up.

"_I wouldn't answer that if I were you."_

I frowned. "Why not?"

_"Tsk, tsk. And I thought you were supposed to be the smart one."_

"Max, just get to the point," I growled.

"_How could Shepard have sent that message _while she's unconscious in that room behind you?"

I froze. Max was right – this didn't make any sense. "Run a trace on that message, and compare it to the first one I got."

A moment later, the results pinged on my omnitool. It seemed that the first message had gone directly from the Normandy to Max's servers on Noveria, but the most recent one was different – it was bounced around comm buoys from 7 different clusters, before finally breaking through the Normandy's firewalls to be sent to me. I frowned.

"So the first message was genuine, then. That means that someone's inside my network – that's the only way they could have known about it. And now they want to trick me into sending them my credit address."

_"I'm running a diagnostic for any information leaks as we speak, but whoever did this covered their tracks well. I have no idea as to who it was."_

"Oh, I think I have a good idea who it was, all right."

This was going to complicate things.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for your patience! I just got back from vacation, and now I have a week's worth of schoolwork to catch up on. I also burned my hand pretty bad on one of those heating lamps they use to keep food warm D:. Sorry this came so late, again, I was on vacation until a few days ago and then I had to catch up on school work. Hope you had a great holiday!**


	6. Maintenance

**Copyright infringement intended. I own Mass Effect. Sue me.**

* * *

><p>Shepard came to slowly, her head throbbing. With a load groan, she tried to sit herself up in the bed before quickly being pushed back down by a doting Chakwas.<p>

"If you try to get up now, you'll only make it worse."

"Christ, doc, I'm _fine_," she tried to say. Instead it came out in an unintelligible slur. Chakwas shook her head.

"You'll have to stay here until the sedatives' residual effects wear off."

"S- Sedatives?"

"Yes. I'm not sure if you remember, but you had a panic attack on Edolus. Morris told Garrus to sedate you so you didn't hurt yourself. Everyone's fine."

Oh. Now she remembered. Shepard repressed a shudder at the thought of the thresher maw again. _Shit. I don't think I would ever forgive myself for losing another team to one of those things._

"Wait, you said Morris did that?" She vaguely remembered his voice coming through her helmet speakers, but she had been too – _preoccupied_ – to pay much attention.

Chakwas nodded, before turning around to monitor some kind of screen, watching as numbers and values scrolled by.

"I don't know the details, but I heard some of it from Tali when I checked her for suit ruptures." Chakwas went over to her terminal to type something, muttering about requisitioning quarian antibiotics before speaking again. "From what I heard, they all owe him their lives."

Shepard nodded. She would have to ask the away team about it later. "Where's Morris now?"

"He came in to see you an hour or two ago, then rushed away suddenly afterwards. He's probably in that storage room he's taken over."

"I'd better go see him, then," Shepard said, hoping beyond hope that Chakwas would let her out as soon as possible.

The doctor sighed. "All right, fine. Let me run a scan at least."

Shepard nodded, sitting up. Chakwas brought up her omnitool and pointed it at Shepard, squinting at whatever showed up on her screen before nodding.

"The sedatives appear to have run their course. If you feel sick or dizzy at all, come back here right away. Got it?"

"Got it, doc!" Shepard shouted, already well on her way out the door.

Chakwas sighed and turned to the cabinet next to her, partially glad that the Commander had left. Jeff was due for his pain medication and she'd be surprised if he'd remembered – or even wanted – to take it.

* * *

><p><em>Fuck. What the fuck do I do?<em>

I sat in my chair, surrounded by holos displaying troves of data and information. At my fingertips was more power than any one else in the galaxy, save the Shadow Broker. And I had no damn idea what to do with it all.

_Where do I start? Do I go along with it? Kill the Broker now? Call him out?_

I sighed and placed my head in my hands. I was frustrated, tired, and confused. So I retreated to my final refuge in the face of difficulty – procrastination.

Half an hour of cute varren and pyjak vids later (who knew there were krogan _pet trainers?_), I stumbled across a familiar sight. A "Science Fun Today" episode on varren, featuring renowned xenobiologist Professor Mordin Solus. I vaguely remembered something about varren "mating instincts", but not much else from the game. Grinning, I started up the video.

The vid had barely began when the door behind me irised open. I turned around in my chair as Shepard strode in, eyebrow raised. I sheepishly minimized the window, embarrassed at being caught out.

Shepard smirked. "Working hard, I see?"

Figuring that there was nothing I could say to improve the situation, I just shrugged. "Need something, Commander?"

With some effort and more than a little biotics, Shepard managed to drag a ration crate off of the wall to use as a seat. I rolled my eyes.

"Great. You're going to have to put that back afterwards, you know. Last time it took Wrex ages to move those things, so you can imagine how difficult it'll be for me."

Shepard grinned, clearly enjoying herself as she lifted yet more crates with her biotics, haphazardly placing them around the room.

"You're on your own, Morris."

"Keelah, you're like a child sometimes."

"Whenever I can be." She frowned. "You've been spending time with Tali? She says that all the time too. I don't even know what it means."

I shook my head. "I haven't been spending too much time with her. It's just part of my job to understand all the major races' cultures. 'Keelah' means homeworld in Khelish. Quarians use it like we use the word 'Christ'."

Shepard nodded, seemingly in contemplation. "I see. The Alliance only rolled out cultural sensitivity classes a few years ago, so I never got them. I think I'll have to defer to you on this kind of thing."

I leaned back in my chair and laced my hands behind my head. It was hardly a proper way to act in the presence of a superior officer, but Shepard didn't seem to mind as long as we kept our shit together when it mattered. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I just wanted to – " Shepard looked up at the ceiling and took a breath. As she looked back to me, I cut her off with a hand.

"If you're going to thank me for Edolus, please don't. I've gotten enough of it from Garrus and Tali. It's my job. It's why the Alliance wants me here. So I'd appreciate it if we don't mention this anymore."

Shepard nodded relieved, and a slightly awkward silence descended. A few moments later, it was broken when Shepard abruptly jumped off of the crate and clapped her hands together.

"So what was it that you were watching before I came in here?"

* * *

><p>Half an hour later after we'd both had a good laugh ("Ah, <em>not<em> attacking! Mating instinct, of course!"), Shepard excused herself to go check on the rest of the crew. Max spoke up in my head.

_"Well, there goes your omniscient image, _Morris. _Can't believe you let her sneak up on you. You're losing your touch."_

"You could've easily just let me know she was coming. I had you override the Normandy VI, remember? You've access to the cameras too."

"_Yeah, I could've. But not telling is a lot more fun."_

"Fuck you. I have half a mind to just replace you with a VI that won't talk back."

"_Oh, but whatever would you do without my winning personality?"_

"That's it. I am installing a mute button right now. _Right fucking now._" I opened my omnitool, intent on making good on my threat.

_"Okay, okay! I'll just go compute pi or something until your panties are in less of a twist."_

"Wait, wait," a sudden thought occurred to me. "You _are_ managing my network properly, right? Because if you screw it up I will personally trash your servers when we stop at Noveria."

Max stayed silent, and I groaned loudly in frustration. _Of course he shuts up when it actually matters._ I checked some diagnostics and found, amusingly, that Max actually _had_ actually allocated much of his processing power to computing pi. He was already at over 1 trillion digits. Impressed at the lengths he went to just to frustrate me, I turned my chair around only to be faced with all the crates Shepard had strewn about. _Great. This just gets better and better._

I weaved my way around the boxes and left the room. The engineers had mostly finished with the Mako, with only a handful left running some tests under Garrus' watchful eye. I had intended on talking to Wrex about the crates, but he seemed engrossed in an argument about shotgun prices with a cowering requisition officer. Deciding against trying to convince him to help again while he was in a bad mood, I instead turned to walk over to Ashley, who seemed to be cleaning out her rifle.

Ashley, hearing my footsteps, turns around to address me. "Officer Morris. I don't think I've had the pleasure."

I nodded. "No, I've been quite busy. But I have some time now, so I'm just getting to know people."

Ashley nods. "I would too, if I could. But Skipper's got me maintaining these guns, and some of them are in pretty bad shape." She makes a pointed glance at Wrex. "The krogan's weapons look like they haven't been maintained in years."

I nod. "That sounds about right. Need any help?"

"No offense, but I'm not sure that's in your, uh, job description."

I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture. "It's not. But ten years is a long time. I know a thing or two."

Ashley nods, although its obvious she's still skeptical. Turning around, she picks up a pistol and hands it to me. Even without the retinal HUD telling me the problem, I could already see – it was choking with some kind of red sand. I shook the gun – a model experimentally, and grains of it pooled at my feet.

"You might want to be careful with that. It's not regular sand."

I looked up from the weapon with a questioning glance.

Ashley points. "That's the turian's favourite pistol. Says it got jammed when a merc dumped a crate full of illegal red sand onto him a few months back."

Oh. So it's not just red sand, its _red sand_, as in the drug. Very carefully, I set the weapon back onto the table.

Ashley watches me, clearly amused. "Don't worry about it. It was pretty low-grade stuff, so the eezo in it's already decayed. Harmless."

I nod, picking the gun back up cautiously. I examined closer, wiping away some particles of sand to see the model. _"Karpov IX". _ I whistled.

"Damn. A Rosenkov mark 9? No wonder it's his favourite. I think only Shepard's HMWP's better."

Ashley nods, a little surprised. "Can you help me clean it out? The turian-"

"Garrus."

"_Garrus _promised to let me use it next time I went groundside if I fixed it up for him."

I raised an eyebrow. "What's in it for me?"

Ashley thought about it for a moment, tinkering with an assault rifle mod, before turning back around.

"Well, I suppose you could have the tur- Garrus' current model. It's a Razer 7, not too bad. Though I don't know what you'd use it for."

"Well, I don't have anything else to do and I can't say that the idea of having my own gun doesn't appeal to me. Fine."

A silence falls between us as we both start disassembling our respective weapons. Despite its tough outer plating and superior firepower, Rosenkov guns were infamous for having many small parts that required maintenance almost every day. I imagined all of those parts caked in red sand, rusting away, and repressed a shudder.

While I may not be the best at it, I've read manuals and instructions on how to maintain most guns. The majority of manufacturers follow strict council regulations on gun manufacturing, ensuring that a soldier could disassemble an Armax Arsenal gun just as easily as they could a Hanhe-Kedar. The only manufacturers that don't follow these laws are the newer Batarian State Arms models (designed and manufactured after their isolation from Citadel space) and the Spectre Master Gear line, which is designed to be tamperproof.

It was a lot to know, sure, but I invested a lot of free time into the subject. Being an information broker could get surprisingly dull at times.

Pulling open the emergency venting port, I grabbed some compressed air and blew out a good amount of dust, sweeping the residue into a bin.

"Have any family?"

I looked over at Ashley, who still seemed absorbed in her work. I detached the panel securing the ammo block before replying.

"Uh, no. I'd rather not talk about it."

Ashley frowned, but didn't push the subject. "I'm sorry. At leas they're with God now."

"Thanks."

I removed the ammo block – really only a small sliver of metal left from years of use – and used the 'air to clean out the receptacle. At least red sand didn't stick to anything, or I'd be here for days.

"You religious?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

Ashley nodded. "You?"

"Not really. But to each his own."

I finally cracked open the plating of the gun, and groaned. The pellet shaver was caked in dust and was unusable. It would take ages to replace. Glancing over, Ashley saw the problem as well.

"Here," she said as she fished a strange hook-shaped piece of metal out of her tool box. I held it up quizzically, noting an indentation at the end of it.

"It's something I made out of a metal strip just to replace pellet shavers. You hook it underneath the blade and press the notch into the release catch at the back."

I nodded, understanding dawning as the shaver released with a satisfying click. I pulled the piece out, tossing it in the bin.

"Clever."

Ashley shrugged, turning back to her own weapon. "Saves me from hurting myself over and over again. Anything that can shave solid metal's probably also sharp enough to cut my finger off. No idea what they were thinking when they designed that thing."

The conversation went on in the same grain for the next hour or so, with only Ashley or Max occasionally breaking the silence to give advice. Wrex had calmed down after negotiating _(read: intimidating)_ a lower price out of the cowed requisition officer and had retired to sleep, leaving the cargo bay quiet.

Finally, I snapped an ammo block into the pistol and raised it triumphantly. Ashley looked over, faintly impressed.

"Not bad. Given the state of that thing when I gave it to you an hour's not too long."

I snorted. "You've gone through three rifles and a shotgun in the time it took me to clean one pistol."

She shrugged, turning to me. "I'm a Williams. I have to be better than the best or else I get looked down on."

I pretended not to know what she was talking about. "Williams. As in, General Williams?"

She sighed, nodding. "The very same. 'The first person to surrender to an alien force.' Even though my technical scores were among the highest of my class, my superiors kept me in garrison forces until Eden Prime just because of my heritage." She snorts. "You'd think we humans were better than that."

"Yeah. It doesn't take a genius to know that anyone would've done the same in your grandfather's place. And anyhow, that's hardly relevant to your performance as a soldier."

"Yeah. Although I don't think I'm cut out for a commanding role."

I raised an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

She tightened her hands into fists. "I lost my entire squad to the damn geth. There were just so many, and that bastard Bates left us for the dead." She sighed, regaining control of herself. "I just- I should've-"

"Ashley. It's not your fault."

"I know. That's what Captain Channing said too."

I frowned. Channing… why did that sound familiar? Then it clicked. Channing was a Cerberus agent – Maya Brooks of all people – who posed as an Alliance psych evaluator in order to get information on Eden Prime. I think it was shown in a comic or something.

I shook my head – that was something to think about another time. I picked up where I left off before the silence became off-putting.

"She said it because its true. Geth are the perfect ambushers, after all. They don't move, breathe, make noise…"

"They have flashlight heads, damn it."

"Can't they turn those off? I mean they hardly need the light in the middle of the damn day."

Ashley seemed to consider it for a moment, obviously having not thought about it before. Picking the pistol off of the bench, I stretched.

"Well anyway, thanks for the lesson. I think I'll go give this to Garrus and get my new pistol before turning in for the day."

Ashley nodded, turning back to her bench. I made my way towards the elevator, and I was about to press the button for the main deck when she called my name.

"Morris?"

I looked back at her from across the cargo bay. "Yeah?"

Ashley pulled up her sleeve and scratched at her shoulder for a moment before continuing.

"Thanks."

I nodded and gave her a small smile before the door slid shut and the elevator began its slow ascent.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The next few chapters'll probably relationship development between Morris and the 'crew before we head off to Feros (Those poor colonists are probably already dead or something at this rate). And no, just because I spent a lot of time on Ashley does _not_ mean that there will be romance - I have decided since the beginning that my character will stay very romance-less. Forever. Also he is technically a minor until ME2. So that might be a problem. Doesn't mean that _other people_ won't find loooooveeee... (Wink wink).**

**That said, I'd like some suggestions. A lot of stuff happens on the main missions - Feros, Noveria, Therum, etc. that is critical to plot - especially Virmire. Seeing as my character is not on the ground team, I'd like your input. Should I find a good reason for him to be on the ground team at least temporarily? Should I write them from Shepard's POV w/ Morris talking to them through their helmets like last chapter? Something else? All feedback is appreciated.**

**Have a great day!**


	7. Conquests

As soon as the elevator lurched into motion, Max spoke up.

_"You have to do something about the Shadow Broker, Morris. If you put it off for too long he'll get suspicious."_

"Yeah, I _know_. There are just so many things to consider. I can't rush into this decision."

_"Whatever it is, you haven't got much time left. This time tomorrow at the latest."_

"Alright, I get it. I'll come up with something."

_"See that you do."_

"Christ, who shoved a stick up your ass, Max? The hell's your problem?"

A pause.

_"What are we even doing here? What's the point of all this? At first I thought it was about selling the ship's technology or something, but that's obviously not the reason. We're wasting our time. There are so many other things you could be doing rather than chase a rogue spectre around the galaxy."_

Despite my frustration with him, Max had brought up a good point. Why _was_ I here? Surely if Shepard could make it on her own in the game, she would do fine here as well, with or without my help. Would it be a better idea to stop meddling?

I dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. Even if it was true, it was too late to back out now.

"Max. I know what I'm doing. Just stick it out. I get the feeling that this is a lot more important than it seems."

Max huffed. _"You know something I don't."_

I shifted my weight onto the wall and rubbed my temples, silently hoping the elevator would go faster so I had an excuse not to answer the veiled question. As if on cue, the elevator ground to a halt. Almost tripping over myself in haste, I got out of the elevator.

Max was unimpressed. _"You can't run from the voice in your head."_

"Watch me."

I picked my way past several crewmen heading for the elevator and arrived at the mess. As I was about to turn the corner, I heard a sudden belt of raucous laughter.

"_What?_" Shepard laughed, leaning back in her chair.

Across from her sat Kaidan, who was trying and failing to keep a straight face. Garrus sat between the two biotics, burying his face in his large talons. I raised an eyebrow at the group, silently questioning.

Shepard looked at me and pointed at Garrus, face flushed with laughter. It seemed that she was about to say something, but failed when she fell into a peal of giggling. Instead, I turned to Alenko, who seemed far more in control.

"Care to explain what's going on?" I said, motioning to the table and the incapacitated Commander.

Alenko grinned. "Our resident turian here just told us about his latest… ah… _conquest."_

I sat down next to Garrus and swiveled the chair to face him. "Oh? I have to hear this." _All right, Mr. Reach and Flexibility, let's hear the details._

Shepard seemed to have calmed down, crossing her legs. "Come on Garrus, tell Morris what you told us."

Garrus groaned and hit his head against the table. "If I knew you'd act like this I wouldn't have said anything."

"Come on, Garrus," I coaxed. "It can't be _that_ bad. I mean, you got laid, right? Nothing to be ashamed of."

Garrus sat up a little, mandibles tight against his face. "Why can't you bother Alenko? Or Morris?"

"Simple. 'Cause teasing you is more fun." She looked up at Kaidan with a smirk. "Although…you have been quite silent on the subject, Alenko. You have something to share?"

Kaidan squirmed under her gaze, and Garrus sat up, clearly relieved that he was no longer the subject of the conversation.

"Well… I…."

"What about Rahna? You two ever…"

"What? Of course not!" Kaidan spluttered. "We were friends. Good friends."

I chuckled. "Let's talk about something else. It's clear that this line of conversation is going nowhere."

Shepard sipped at her drink, peering at me over the rim. I shook my head and fixed her with a glare.

"Don't even go there, Shepard."

She set down her mug with an exaggerated sigh. "You guys are no fun."

Remembering why I had come up here in the first place, I turned to Garrus and took out his Karpov, sliding it across the table.

"There. Ashley and I fixed it for you and freshened it up a little. A couple of the mods were outdated, so I took 'em out. Should work good as new, though."

Garrus picked up the gun carefully, as if the slightest sudden move it would cause it to explode. "Damn," he said with a flick of his mandibles. "Ashley said she would clean it out but I didn't believe her." He examined the gun almost reverently.

Suddenly, Kaidan grunted and ground his palms on his temples. Concerned, the three of us looked over at him.

"You should go see Chakwas, Kaidan. Get something for your migraine," Shepard offered.

Kaidan shook his head. "I'll be fine. I'll just sleep it off. Nice talking to you all," he said, standing up. He threw a final smirk at Garrus before leaving.

After Alenko left, Garrus unholstered his Razer and replaced it with the Karpov. As the gun compacted, he tossed his previous pistol over to me. I fumbled it for a moment before dropping it, eliciting another laugh from Shepard. I quickly scooped the gun off of the floor and placed it on the table as Garrus headed for the elevator.

Shepard and I sat in silence for a while as she drank her coffee and I tinkered with the weapon. The ammo block was barely used, and showed no signs of rust or corrosion. The emergency vent was properly cleared, and the small canister of compressed gas was airtight. I would have to swap out the handle for one designed for fingers rather than talons, but other than that the gun had been maintained exceptionally well. With a grunt of approval, I put the gun in a thigh pocket (_seriously, why did Alliance uniforms have so many?)_ and looked up to see that Shepard was eyeing me with what could only be described as curiosity.

I raised a brow at her. "What, is there something on my face?"

She sat up a little. "It's nothing. Just never took you as the type of guy who was good with guns."

I leaned back, shrugging. "What can I say? Everyone's got a hobby. Back on the station, I would tinker with 'em whenever I had down time. Kept my mind off the situation I was in."

Shepard frowned. "Garrus told me about that. I still find it a little hard to believe."

_Shit._ "Why?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing… I just imagined the Alliance was better than that. But I suppose even idealists like me have to look at the facts every once in a while."

"You've talked to Kaidan, right? About brain camp and that thing with the turian instructor?"

She did that thing where she moved as if to brush her hair behind her ear, only to stop once she realized she had it in a bun. One of her tells. She worked the sudden movement into a neck scratch. "How do you know about that?"

I chuckled. "One of these days you'll learn to stop asking me that question. Anyway, you know what the turian bastard did to those kids. Some of them _died_, Shepard. And that was all above-board, approved by the Alliance. What they did on the station – most of that was off the record. The Alliance kept pressing them for results, and they couldn't keep up, so they took it out on the kids. On me." _Shit, _I thought. _I might've just recited Jack's entire backstory._

Shepard nodded, but she clearly wasn't quite satisfied. She furrowed her brow for a moment, as if deliberating whether or not to ask a potentially hurtful question.

"Well go on, spit it out."

She swallowed, averting her eyes slightly. "I was wondering… I mean, slavers took the station, right? That was… about a week ago now. How are you … you just seem so calm, all things considered."

_Better come up with something good, fast._ "I uh… didn't really get to connect with the others, really. It was the same for all of us. We were kept separate, you know? We had classes together, but the supervisors encouraged this… really competitive atmosphere, and we all learned to hate each other. They wanted us to become attached to our handlers instead, and eventually, our AI constructs."

Shepard rarely let herself be surprised or caught off guard, but I saw a small twitch of her jaw that gave her away.

"AI?"

"Yeah. A pipe dream, really, but it was why they were doing all that research. I never got a definitive look, but I think they were studying geth and their ability to network, and see if they could do the same with VI's instead of simple programs to create some sort of artificial intelligence. I'm not sure how far they got with it, though."

"Shit," she said, shaking her head. Suddenly, she leaned forward, tense. "Did the slavers get any of that data?"

"Uh, no. They weren't geniuses; they were only there for a slave run. The scientists scrubbed the servers. They couldn't salvage anything. I doubt the Alliance'll be able to either." As Shepard looked to be about to ask another question, I came up with an idea. Drawing my face into a grimace, I leaned over the table. "Damn batarians," I muttered.

Whatever Shepard was going to say died in her throat, followed by an almost imperceptible pause. I felt a little guilty for exploiting her experiences on Mindoir, but at least I had derailed the conversation. I didn't quite trust my ability to make up a coherent story on the fly. Eventually, I figured, I would have to sit down and sort it all out once and for all.

The moment passed, and Shepard spoke up again. "I still can't…you know, deal with batarians. I know its wrong to generalize, and the majority of them aren't slavers, but it's more of a subconscious thing, you know?"

"What's this? The first human Spectre, paragon of inter-species cooperation, is a _closet racist_?" I teased.

"Bite me," she snapped good-naturedly, before looking back down at her empty mug with a sigh.

"Hey," I said, getting her to look back up. "You all right?"

"Yeah," she said with a dismissive wave, her flippant manner only slightly forced. "I've had years to get over that mess." She turned her gaze to me, the obvious question unvoiced but heavily implied.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm not a sociopath. As I said, no one on that station gave a shit about me as a person. My peers shunned me, my handler treated me as a tool to be used, and the project managers thought I was an experiment. God, that slave raid was the best fucking thing that ever happened to me."

The words were out of my mouth before my brain could catch up, and I froze, hoping that they didn't come off as facetious. Shepard, however, didn't seem fazed in the slightest.

"But why would the Alliance assign you so quickly?"

I frowned. "I'm not sure. If I had to guess, I'd say it was because I was already done training and my psych eval was solid. They had nowhere to put me, so they figured they might as well imbed me in a ship."

Shepard nodded.

"Look, Shepard… would you mind not reporting the stuff I've told you to brass? I don't know how many of the higher-ups in the Alliance were in league with the directors of the project, but if word gets out that the station was rogue, you can bet they'll look for leaks, and it'll be my head on the chopping block."

"Are you that distrustful of the Alliance?"

"Let's just say that after the last few years, I'm not very well-disposed to liking them."

Thankfully, she seemed to understand. "Alright. I won't say anything in my report."

"Thank you, Shepard," I said, genuinely grateful. I stood to leave.

She touched my wrist as I passed her, causing me to look back around.

"If you need anything…I'm here."

I smiled. "Thanks for the offer. Don't stretch yourself too thin, Commander."

"Noted. Now rest up, we hit Feros in a couple days and I want you on overwatch again."

With a final nod, I turned the corner and headed for the elevator.

* * *

><p>Shepard sat with her empty mug in hand, staring at nothing in particular. As much as it went against everything that had been ingrained in her since she signed up at 18, she had to admit that the Alliance certainly wasn't the benevolent organization she had pictured when she enlisted. And if what Morris said was true, than it might have been even worse than she thought.<p>

Opening her omnitool, she started to read the messages she had missed while she was under. The only one that caught her eye, however, was a reply from Enigma for her earlier inquiry. She skimmed it over and was about to tap out a reply when she stopped herself. She had been eager to find out more about Morris at first, but now that she knew him a little better, a bit of guilt had seeped in. Even if he weren't telling the complete truth, there was no indication that he wished harm on any of the crew. To top it all off, she wasn't even sure if she could _get_ that many credits. She certainly didn't have it, and the Council wasn't going to give it to her without good reason. At any rate, she doubted they'd be willing to let her pay a potentially criminal information broker for ultimately non-vital information. She wrote out a reply, hesitating for a moment on the wording. Satisfied, she sent the message off and sat there for a moment, simply listening to the low hum of the engines and the light snoring of the crew beneath her. Then, she stood up and headed for her quarters, leaving the mess quiet and empty.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I really should stop writing so many of these notes.**

**At any rate, sorry for the long wait for a short chapter. Turns out the one week of school I miss for Cancun is the one week all of my courses have projects assigned. Of course. I had to spend a long time catching up, only to have more piled on recently. So updates will be slow, I'm aiming for one every two weeks at bare minimum, but ideally once a week.**

**Feros in one or two chapters! Finally getting into the meat of all this.**

**One more thing - I have a couple ideas floating in my head for how to proceed, some immediate, some far in the future. I'd like someone to bounce these ideas around with. As long as you don't mind me spoiling everything about everything in this fic and what is to come. PM me if interested. DO NOT PUT IT IN A REVIEW. Ideally come with some ideas of your own, and we'll talk it through. Not a requirement though. If you have any, put the ideas in the first PM you send me. Offer expires when next chapter is posted. (Sounds like a late-night infomercial)**

**Have a great day!**


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